


Chalk It Up To Bad Timing

by Ghostcat



Category: New Girl
Genre: F/M, Poor Timing, Romantic Friendship, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:45:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4758677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostcat/pseuds/Ghostcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jess and Nick at various points prior to The Big Kiss (somewhere between Fluffer and post-Cabin), with and without other girlfriends/boyfriends, making small realizations about their feelings along the way. No one cries. Also, ribbons! And tension, the good kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chalk It Up To Bad Timing

**Author's Note:**

> **(AO3 was open on my phone and this story deleted itself in my pocket. Apologies for the repost and for the loss of reader comments, if you happen to have left one way back when.)**  
>     
> Rated PG for squeaky clean but hopefully still a little bit sexy, in a Doris Day kinda way.
> 
> Thank you to Kyra for being a mighty Beta.
> 
> I do not own these characters. Please review! :)

Jess grins as she drives and Nick can't stand it. Winston had gotten into his head. Was he right? Was he basically Jess' pretend boyfriend? Her “fluffer”? The thought bothers Nick but not in the expected way. It's a song stuck in his head, a song he _kind_ of likes.

She shifts. He looks down at her legs and wonders where her pants went, how could you even call those shorts, _the word itself was bigger than what she had on_ and DON’T FREAK OUT, MAN. Jess is too busy smiling to notice him.

“SO it went super duper great last night.”

Nick turns to look at her, unwilling and willing, frowning for emphasis. She nods brightly at him. He frowns some more and clears his throat. “So you said.”

“It was like nothing I'd ever done before.”

“Yeah... please don't.”

She casts a giddy side glance. “Come on. Please, please, please let me talk about it. Just one thing. Pleease?”

“Fine.” Nick crosses his arms and stares straight ahead, chewing his lip.

“Come on! Like the three of you don't swap notes about your sexy conquests at the bar?”

“Uh, no. We're not animals.”

“Cece and I always give each other the dirty scoop.”

“The dirty scoop?! I... Guys don't talk that way—” Nick gestures with his hands, palms up, exasperated, “—with each other.”

“Not even with Schmidt?”

“NOT EVEN SCHMIDT,” he yells.

“Okay, okay. Geez louise.”

There is a moment of silence. Nick glances over at Jess. She fidgets, like a kid who can't wait to tell a secret, squinting happily at an upcoming light as if everything's cool and he didn't just lose it.

He feels like a dick. He is a dick. He sighs. “Fine. Go ahead.”

“Okay, Sam is SO CONFIDENT.” Jess narrows her eyes and then opens them wide again, capping it off with a sly double wink. “See, that's not too personal?”

“Somehow when you say it like that, it _is_ , Jess.”

“It's just his confidence. AAAH. It makes _me_ feel confident and sexy and strong like I can match him.”

“Yeah, not digging this.”

“And I just wanna give it right back at him, like all the way, light his fire, put a little sugar in his bowl—”

“Nope, nope, nope”

“And take out his garbage—”

“What?”

“Toss his salad.”

“I'm pretty sure you don't know what that means.”

“Bake his bread? That's a thing, right? It should be.” Jess whispers behind her hand, “Yeast.”

Nick shakes his head in the negative, crinkling his nose and biting his lower lip; his whole face a big no.

“I think he likes what I'm doing too if ya know what I'm sayin'? Damn! I feel like a woman! Damn! Wish I was your lover! All the songs! And I owe it all to yooooouuuu! NICK MILLA!” Jess belts out his name to the tune of “Goldfinger”.

“Glad to help. Can we talk about something else now?”

“Come on Nick, you know how it is. It wasn't that way with any of your college chickadees?”

“JESS.”

Her eyes widen at the volume.

Nick lowers his voice to a softer gravel. “I really don't wanna be talking about this right now, or EVER, like, it's just... just... Look, I'm really happy things are working out with you and that guy, I am.”

“Oh, they are SO workin'.”

Jess busts out a seated, driving victory dance of sorts and fades quickly when she catches Nick's reaction.

“Was that necessary?”

“You're right. Sorry. Continue. I won’t dance.”

“Thank you. Now that we've established how great all of this is, can we please talk about something else? Please?”

“Anything for you, kind sir,” she says, rolling her hand in the air like some old timey type in a king's court.

“Great.”

“Cool dude. Awesome guy. Enabler of my hook up life.”

“Gross. Too much.”

“Too much? Right. I know! Let's turn on the radio!”

Jess presses the radio button and “Feel Like Makin' Love” plays. She immediately sings along with gusto. Nick sighs again.

“Okay, I'll change it—”

She hits the favorites button and “Steal My Sunshine” blares out. Jess yells “Whoo!” and raises the volume.

Nick shouts over the din “I hate this song.” to Jess' simultaneous “I love this song!” She laughs again and gives him a giant, pleased smile as she raises the volume to a blare.

“COME ON, MILLER! YOU KNOW YOU LOVE IT!”

“I HATE IT!”

“YEAH! I KNEW YOU LIKED IT!”

She sings along with heartfelt sweetness _IF YOU STEAL MY SUNSHINE_ her window rolled down _IF YOU STEAL MY SUNSHINE_  hair fluttering in the breeze coming through the car windows _IF YOU STEAL MY SUNSHINE_ he goes back to frowning _MY SUNSHINE_ but, there’s a smile in his eyes that wasn’t there before _MY SUNSHINE_ and their conversation starts again, moves on.

They talk about awesome songs from the '90s, family road trips and teendom angst, moving easily from one subject to the other. Even after they get to IKEA and take turns sitting on sofas, bouncing on beds, and sharing one of those little crunchy chocolate pies with the weird Swedish names—there's still this ease. Nick remembers Winston's words though, when Jess reaches over and absentmindedly wipes crumbs off of his face and he fails to make a smart-assed comment about it. It feels great, it feels nice. Like she's his girl and he's her guy. He offers to drive on the way back. She falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

Time flies by in 4D. It was almost Christmas. He'd been in his room, pre-gaming, caught in an hours long Google image search vortex (it started with “otters holding hands” and then ended somewhere really kinky) when he shouts “BASTA!” at no one in particular and heads out for another beer.

Jess is in the kitchen, her back to him, wearing a gray dress he's never seen before. The skirt part flares out and her legs, pale and slim, are planted akimbo as if she’s trying to anchor herself to the ground. She’s making odd little grunts and pivoting on her heels. There’s a grayish blue velvet ribbon bow in her hair and it shakes slightly as she moves. It takes him a few seconds to realize that she’s trying to unscrew the top of a jar of Nutella. Jess and jar tops, bitter foes.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he reaches out and grabs the edge of the velvet ribbon in her hair and pulls it slowly until it comes undone. She turns her face to him as he does so. Her eyes a mix of curiosity and something he doesn’t recognize.

“Sorry. Don't know why I did that.”

She hugs the jar with one hand and lifts the other to her head, touching where the bow used to be.

“Here, give it to me.” He grabs her softly by the elbow and steers her all the way around and takes the jar from her. He makes quick work of the top and it gives with a pop. He notices the toast on the table and drags his eyes up to her. “Whatcha doin'?”

“Making a snack. You want some?”

“No thanks. You going out tonight?” He gets a beer from the fridge.

“Yes. I told Sadie that I'd go to this art gallery thing. It's really cool actually, part of an organization she volunteers for LGBT elders using mixed media to explore their lives and uh, histories. I was supposed to go with Sam before…you know. Do you... do you want to come? Probably not, huh?”

“Nah. Raiders are playing The Broncos. I need to stay home and get really, really angry and yell at the television.”

“Which team are you rooting for?”

“Neither one. They both suck.”

“Okay, then. What about your super new ladyfriend? She stopping by?”

“Angie? She's working tonight.” He leans over, pops the top off the beer bottle on the table and saunters off to the couch.

Jess leaves not long after that; bagging her sandwich, cleaning up the counter, and whispering goodbye.

 

* * *

 

It's the weekend after their ill-fated cabin trip. Jess had thought it might be good to have a little rooftop shindig. Correction, she'd thought it might be good to have a little rooftop shindig to snap Nick out of his uncharacteristically quiet funk. Of course, Nick sat out most of it, drinking quietly in the corner, hoodie over his head.

When the rowdiest game of Apples to Apples Jess has ever played comes to a triumphant close, guests start saying their goodbyes.

Winston, who hadn't been drinking, agrees to drive an extremely inebriated Schmidt and his date back to her place. Schmidt swears that he's just going to walk her up to her apartment and back because he's “a true gentleman, son” and “that's how Schmidt do”. In return, Winston gets in a good face slap, a fifty for the Douchebag jar, and the promise of a spa certificate. All in all, a very successful night.

With everyone finally gone, Jess cleans up, gingerly stepping over Nick who sits in a lawn chair next to the kiddie pool, one bare foot in, the other oxford clad. He calls them his Monopoly shoes, only to be worn in cases of extreme inadequacy. He'd stumbled over the last word, but Jess had gotten the gist.

As she walks past him, he grabs the edge of her skirt.

“Jess. Jessss. Jessicaaaa.”

“Yes, Nick. That's my name.”

He looks up at her with a chagrined expression. Then back down at her skirt in his fingers. “Remember what you asked me, when we were in the car that time?”

“Sure, I remember what I asked you in the car that time.”

Nick narrows his eyes until they're practically closed; classic sozzled sourpuss face. Jess rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips.

“Come on, Nick, be specific!”

“You were talking about your Doctor—Doctor Sam and his sexy ways and how greaaaat he was in bed.”

Jess stills, slightly startled, not sure where he’s headed with this. She opens her mouth to speak but Nick cuts her off before she can say anything.

“Angie was like that. She was WILD.”

“Oh yeah?”

He swigs his beer and licks his lips. Jess looks down at them and licks her own. She clears her throat and says, “She seemed... adventurous.”

“No. Yes. No. I'm lying. I'm a liar, Jess. She was a fun girl and so, so crazy but I wasn't... 100% on board with her crazy.” Nick sighs again and rubs his eyes. “To tell you the truth, I was terrified of her. She's like the me in my head, you know? The person I thought I was. In _here_ ,” Nick taps his head with his finger. “I'm this badass but in reality, I'm kind of a wuss. It's tough to admit that. I don't... I can't... put myself out there like that. I like to stay in my comfort zone. A nice bed. Some dim lighting. No fires.”

“Fires?”

“Don't ask.”

“I'm sorry, Nick.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you're great and—” She kneels down in front of him and puts her hand on his thigh. He looks down at the spot where her hand is. “I mean, yeah. You're just great.”

Nick smiles goofily. “Great in bed, ya mean.”

“Ha, sure, Miller. I bet you are.”

“I am though,” he nods affably, “You've never had it so good.”

He says it so matter of factly, like the truest true truth. It catches her off guard. She shakes her head and gives a dry little laugh.

“Oookay, let's get you to bed.”

She reaches her arms out and pulls him up. Nick weaves in front of her, all crooked smiles, and flops his hands on her shoulders as if to steady himself. He rubs her shoulder blades with his thumbs and she lets herself enjoy it for a moment. Nick's got good hands.

With a small sigh, she puts her arms around him and starts to walk him over to the stairs.

“This is the second night in a row. I'm getting used to tucking you in,” she says, half-way down.

“Me too. I like it. Honey, you are a goooood tucker.”  Nick laughs into her and rather than feel annoyed at her ridiculously tanked roommate, she feels fluttery, warm. He holds onto her tight and whispers things about her being the prettiest of poodles, his breath smells like a Heisler brewery and his stubble scratches as he turns to talk into her neck. She doesn't push him away though, she takes her time down the stairs. For safety, she tells herself. Once they're in the apartment, Jess lets him keep whispering even though there's no need for him to be quiet, there's no one at home.

When they get to his room, he pulls her down on the bed with him and mumbles sorry when she lands on a pizza box. He pushes the box out of the way and wraps his arms around her, big spooning her. She's startled mostly by how comfortable it is, stays there for a couple of deep breaths but then sits up and breaks free.

“Come on, Nick, let me get your shoe off. We'll look for the other one in the morning.”

“Hey Jess, Jessica, Jess.”

Nick reaches up with his index finger and tenderly moves her hair away from her face. He's beautiful, Jess thinks, with his sad dog eyes and his messy hair that doesn't know whether to curl or fly upwards. He smiles at her. It’s a lovely smile, it breaks her heart a little.

“You’re so nice to me. Why are you so nice to me? I’m the dumbest boy.” His eyes widen and he reaches for her hair. “Hey, you’re wearing it again. The ribbon. I love this thing—” And with that, he closes his eyes with a sigh and falls back.

Jess watches him until he starts snoring softly. She fixes the pillow under his head, pushes him slightly to the side and tries to shake off the unexpected feeling of affection she has for him at that moment. Not the kind she has for Schmidt and Winston, with loft dance party Thursdays or Sunday night TV time popcorn sharing. Like the kind where she can kiss his wrists, his throat, the bump in his nose, his pouty bottom lip, every day of the week, because he needs it and she needs it. The kind where she doesn’t have to cross the few steps back to her room but can stay right here. The kind that’s just want and NOW.

But why is she thinking this? It's Nick. Nick being Nick. So he likes to cuddle and say nice things when he's drunk. So what, right? None of this means anything. Nothing to see here. She says the last bit out loud to herself as she finishes tucking him in bed. Sam never crosses her mind.

In the morning, Nick grumbles and hisses about the sun but eats the breakfast she puts in front of him. He apologizes for being so drunk that he needed her help getting into bed and doesn't mention anything else. Neither does she. Jess remembers though, really remembers, and convinces herself that she’s the only one who does. Even though, given the way he won’t quite meet her eyes when she hands him his catbird nest hidden shoe, she knows that’s just not true.

 


End file.
